


if only i don't bend and break i'll meet you on the other side

by J_Ace_Flicker



Category: Good Omens
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is a dumbass, Crowley is a mess, M/M, Other, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24757180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Ace_Flicker/pseuds/J_Ace_Flicker
Summary: Lyrics of title and chapter titles taken from Keane's Bend And Break.Crowley has always been different, has always felt the Fall moreso than any other.He's alone. Always alone.Until he meets Aziraphale, and then he unfolds from the confines of self.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 2





	if only i don't bend and break i'll meet you on the other side

Crowley was well used to becoming new shapes, to stuffing himself into ill fitting forms and splintering the corners of his sense of self on the question  _ why _ as he became again and again and again.

He remembered being a series of never-ending fractals. He remembers the infinity of the torus that was him; always moving and creating and destroying and being. He remembers plucking energy from himself and disrupting his flow and pulling it out and breathing on it-- breath being the start of all things, being the life and creation and beautiful chance-- and watching as stars bloomed out from him, as a galaxy formed under his loving eyes. And he remembers the amorphous shape that was  _ why _ , that was the realization that none of the others seemed to share his love.  _ Why _ didn’t they love these things so fiercely?  _ Why _ didn’t they care so much that it was a physically pain? A cone with a point lodged through his very center.

_ Why was he different? _

And then he unbecame. He simplified. He Fell.

Four dimensions shattering into just two. The most intense, excruciating pain one could experience, and it was forced upon him because he asked questions.  _ Why  _ couldn’t he stop questioning? There was an inversion of his very being, an undoing of his structure that reformed into something plain and that was still too small. He felt his halo snap and crack and halve which was more than what was left of the rest of him, a perfect circle curving into jagged horns. 

He was a smile made of sharpened triangles and a hexagon in his chest that wanted so desperately to be filled and he was a line that slashed through his throat and never ended.

He looked around and he saw pentagrams wielded like spears and perfect squares. The only similarities between he and the other demons the curving of their horns. They seemed to fit these new skins, seemed to breathe just as easy in these  _ too-small too-tight too-simple _ flesh forms. They did not seem to mind the lack of shape, did not seem to realize that they had been cut apart and split open and violated in the worst way possible. They raged at the injustice, they screamed at the heaven they had been banished from. And again Crawly had to ask, because he still hadn’t learned his lesson.

_ Why was he different? _

And then there was the Garden. And then there was a tree. And Crawly had already made himself so small, had already shrunk to not even a fraction of what he was, that it was easy to become the gentle slopes and curving crescents of the snake, to grind down his edges to fit into it. There was something about the flow of it that felt almost natural, that felt less like breaking and more like shifting.

“Oh, my!” a voice called, and he saw hands reaching down to scoop him up. The Guardian, the Keeper. Crawly was a coiled mess, was the barbed points of thorns on vines, was the twisting muscle of his sinuous flesh. “What a lovely shape, you are.” And Crawly’s world stopped. Because no one else had ever acknowledged the shapes, no one ever talked about them and he was too afraid to ask but  _ this angel _ … Did the Keeper see? Did the Keeper know?

He slipped his tongue out, tasted the sweet tang that was heavy in the air here. 

An annulus behind the angel, turning in opposite directions ever-so slowly. A small torus in the angel’s chest, an infinity confined comfortably inside the angel’s vessel. What fascinated Crawly most were the spirals: incomplete circles, gravity pulling inwards, something  _ new _ and maybe, something great.

But he had a job to do. So he stretched and began to wrap around a branch, the angel giving a soft  _ “Oh! _ ” of surprise before helping. “Goodbye, lovely creature! I will see you again, no doubt.” Gentle hands stroked down this form’s back, and maybe Crawly lingered. Possibly. 

But he had a job to do.

He slithered his way towards the Humans, watching. Adam was all simple squares: accepting, comfortable. But Eve… She was circles. Infinity and completion and curiosity. There was something unformed in her chest. She was covered in a myriad of shapes that were just barely not touching, not connecting. He could connect them. Crawly could change them. He only needed to introduce a few questions. She had the form of it, she just needed the tools.

“ _ Why _ ” he whispered, and she asked  _ why put a tree in the middle of the garden and tell us not to touch it? _ She wondered  _ why is it forbidden? why is it so bad? _ She thought  _ why why why _ and took a bite of the apple and she burst into form. In circles and triangles connecting and spinning and whirling. She was bigger than she ever knew. She taught Adam  _ how _ , taught him the  _ what is this?,  _ got him to think  _ why _ ? And, knowing the consequences and damning them, took a bite himself of the apple. He was simple, still, but his shapes moved in ways they had not before. Her heart was a diamond, all points and beauty and clarity, and they Fell, in their own way. But they had a choice that he never got. They got to know  _ what _ the consequences were, because he’d whispered it into her ear and she to his.

And it was not long after that that Crowley met the shapes that would change his life: Aziraphale. The unending spiral and the yawning torus and the half-moon smiling at him.

**Author's Note:**

> If I wanna write the next chapters, I'll need to find the script for the show-- but I'm having so much trouble navigating it I feel so dumb Dx


End file.
